


That one time

by Jonah_Smith_907



Series: Some fluff shit, some rough shit. [10]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Foggy doesn't understand, For once Foggy made a mistake, and Matt is kinda angry, not getting out of bed, unhealthy way of living
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 04:15:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13159092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonah_Smith_907/pseuds/Jonah_Smith_907
Summary: About Matt who doesn't show up to work and Foggy stops by but can't understand why the other one can't get out of bed, they have little fight. Or rather Matt tells him his opinion and Foggy doesn't get angry but finally understands.Because people don't understand.Lots of emotional hurt with happy ending





	That one time

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this within one hour and I didn't read through it again so I've got no idea if any of this makes sence, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

Matt had been bad for a while now. Or, more accurately, worse than usually. Meaning it had gotten difficult to get out of bed lately or to eat and sleep properly. Though he could blame his daredeveling for the sleeping part. He was, after all, out every single night, fighting until near unconsciousness. Though not necessarily because of eventual wounds but because of sheer exhaustion. 

One time – maybe two nights ago – he had been out so long, he had barely made it home without passing out on the way. Plus he had been really really cold because it had been raining. 

But now he wasn't cold any more he was just … numb. And empty. And restless at the same time. 

This day was the worst it had gotten all year. And for once he didn't try to fight it. He just … lay in bed, curled up in his blanket. He hadn't called Foggy to take a day off. He hadn't moved since he'd woken up. 

He first did when his phone spoke up: “Foggy. Foggy. Foggy. Foggy.”

He answered it. He was actually a little surprised because he hadn't flinched or anything at the sudden sound. The first graspable feeling all week. 

“Matt? Where are you? It's already past 12.” He sounded casual, not really concerned. 

“Home. 'M taking a day off. I'm sick.” It wasn't a lie. But probably rather weird for Foggy to hear him admitting this. He usually never did. 

“Alright, sure. I'll come over later.” Matt had intended to protest against that – he really didn't want to see any one right now – but his friend had already hung up. Matt sighed.

 

He didn't know how much time had passed until he heard the knock on his door. He focussed and soon caught Foggy's heartbeat, strong and calm. He didn't go to open; he waited for him to let himself in with the spare key. 

After two minutes Foggy stood in the door of Matt's room, looking at him, waiting until he sat up. 

“You alright?”, he eventually asked. 

“Yeah, just … you know.” Matt really hoped he did. He didn't want to explain it. 

“Uuh … sure. I thought you were sick?” Matt could _hear_ him frown. 

“Depressions are a sickness, Foggy.” A tiny smile lingered on the corner of his mouth, making him look rather shitty. Like he was on the edge of going crazy. That kinda smile. 

Foggy stared at him a little shocked. In all that time he'd known him, he'd never admitted to this, ever. He'd just found – shitty – excuses and smiled his way out of the obvious question. “Right.”, he finally said. “But you should really get up now. We have this really disgusting case where the landlord of a house full of good people refuses to let their pipes be repaired but instead apparently buys drugs from all the money he gets. You have to help us on this one. It's one hell of a lot of paperwork.”

Matt just chuckled – against all odds – and shook his head. He shortly made a short check up of his body, but the only conclusion he could draw was that he was most definitely not going anywhere today. “No.” He tried to hide his hands, fumbling with his blanket. 

“What? Why not? It can't be that difficult. I can help you get out of bed, if you want.” 

Matt knew it was probably supposed to be a joke, but it left him rather stunned. He chuckled again. He just wished he'd stop _laughing_! It made him look fine, made him look strong, but he wasn't! He was as far away from fine as the moon from the sun and for once in his life he wanted someone to understand that, to respect that. To show empathy towards him. Maybe even sympathy. 

So naturally, he let out a little laugh when Foggy pulled away his blanket. Though then he was left exposed to the cold, exposed to Foggy, dragged out of the safety he needed. Which drove him to grip the blanket tight and pull it back with surprising strength. 

Which then again led to Foggy huffing in disagreement and eventually let go. He frowned again; harder now. Then he sighed and said: “Whatever. I'll head back to the office to _work_.”

And with that he left, firmly closing the front door behind himself. 

It took Mat a second until the anguish reached his brain and tears started welling in his eyes. Not many fell, but it were enough to make him feel frustrated. Though that was already the case. 

He'd just wanted, no, _needed_ a little comfort, he'd _needed_ to be understood. But instead he'd gotten disappointment. Apparently that was all he managed to cause. Disappointment. Even as Daredevil; victims he couldn't save were disappointed when he couldn't get to them in time, while the police was of course not approving about him beating up people, but sometimes they seemed quite glad. And then they blamed him when he was too late. When people got hurt. Or worse. 

Matt curled back up under his blanket and tried to block out those thoughts, tried to block out everything. Eventually he fell asleep, caused by too much silent crying and too many nights out. 

 

The next time he woke up, it was because a voice ripped him from his sleep.

“I just wanted to check back in. See if you're still alive.” It didn't sound as much as a joke as it had been intended, that's for sure. It was Foggy, standing in the door of his room. He was holding a plastic bag in his hand. A warm bag. “You hungry? I brought Thai.”

Matt suppressed a yawn and sat up. He considered the question. Sure, his stomach was empty and rumbling and complaining, but he didn't want to tell his friend that. “No.”, he finally said. Instead he asked: “What time is it?”

“About 5pm, why?”

“Fell asleep.” Neither of them said a word then, waiting for the other to start, because it was obvious they had to talk. 

“Are you okay, Matt?” Foggy broke the silence first. 

Again he chuckled. If he could just stop! Doing! That! “If I was, would we be here then?”, he asked back. 

“Probably not.” Foggy sat down on the bed next to Matt and looked at him. He was curious and unsure of what to say and a little bit frustrated about the whole situation. He just couldn't understand why it was so difficult for the other man to get up. 

And Matt sensed that. “You don't get it, do you.” He sounded way more pissed off than he had intended, but it accurately represented his inner chaos. “You haven't got the faintest clue why I am doing this.” Foggy wanted to reply something to that, but he wasn't allowed to. “I mean sure, I understand if you don't like that I am going out night after night to beat people up and I understand if you don't want to deal with my shit, I'm not forcing you to do so, but for once in my life I need you to just shut up and leave me be in peace and not to let me hear your disappointment or anger or whatever. Just … if you don't wanna put up with it, leave and wait until tomorrow. Or the day after. Until I'm able to move again without having to debate inside my head for 20 minutes.”

He took a deep shattery breath and waited for the response, half expecting for the other man to just leave. He tried to ignore the tears running down his cheeks, but eventually had to wipe them away when they gathered at his chin and made him feel even more awkward. Additionally this outburst had cost him nearly all of his energy, so he pulled his knees up his chest and rested his head on them. 

Foggy was left speechless for a minute, not knowing what to do or what to say. Then he said: “I'm … I'm sorry if you feel that way. I just … didn't know how bad this can be. Or is.” He came closer, carefully placing a hand on his back. “Of course I'll try to help you. Tell me what to do and I'll do it.” 

Matt nodded. Then he sighed and rubbed over his eyes once more. “Maybe I should eat something. Can't remember the last time.”

Foggy nodded and reached out for the bag, revealing two deliciously smelling boxes of which he handed one to his friend. 

At first he ate slowly, having to push himself a little, but after a while it worked better and he sped up to a normal pace. 

It was good.


End file.
